


In Which Sam Wilson Realizes His Unhealthy Devotion To The Well-Being Of The Avengers

by Out_Of_Custody



Series: Courting Rituals Of Reformed Soviet Assassins [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Sam, BAMF Darcy, Cap is getting his head pulled out of his ass, F/M, Finally, The Avengers love Darcy, The Chart, but super fluffy, super short, tensions running high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Out_Of_Custody/pseuds/Out_Of_Custody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: In which, unfortunately, there isn't really any wooing done (sorry...)</p><p>(basically an inconsequential interlude)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Sam Wilson Realizes His Unhealthy Devotion To The Well-Being Of The Avengers

**Author's Note:**

> Sam doesn't get enough love in my opinion. 
> 
> \--

Sam was well informed about the hard-headedness of his friend (it took a certain kind of person to go after a _ghost_ ). He was, however, also aware of the animosity it garnered from his team-mates and the consequent, if slow, split amongst them. He did not need to draw on his minor in psychology to figure how the whole thing would play out if someone wouldn’t _act_.

 

**

 

Going to Steve about it was a resounding NO.  
While he knew that the Captain had finally come around to accepting that his “Bucky” had been lost to seventy years’ worth of brainwashing, he still fought with accepting the fact that for now a Mollified-By-The-Ways-Of-Darcy-Lewis Winter Soldier was all he would be getting in the near future.

The biggest obstacle in that endeavour was, quite obviously, the intern herself.

Not, granted, that Sam agreed with his fellow brother in arms. If the woman had been able to create herself a seat of honour in the mind-halls of the Winter Soldier, he didn’t doubt that she would be able to handle all that this secondary persona would throw her way.

(It was the first time he rescinded his comment about doing everything that Captain America did, only slower – he was definitely faster this time around.)

Employing either Natasha’s or Clint’s aid in convincing the Captain was a No-Go too.

Because Natasha had taken a very thorough liking to the young Intern and had taken up to training her on Thursday – the only remaining free-day of the younger woman – and would encourage her flexibility, a trait that her other two trainers tended to overlook.

(Sam couldn’t help but notice how bendy the Russian herself was, but now was not the time.)

And Clint had been the very first of the Avengers to train to Darcy (even if it had been on behalf of The Winter Soldier) – and had gone as far as to reveal the bribes he’d been paid with for taking over her introduction at Close Quarter Combat and Marksmanship. Steve had put them through the ringer when his Spangly Shorts had shown up plastered to the ceiling of the Common Rooms – Clint had, unsurprisingly, not been repentant.

On that account it had also come as no surprise that neither Tony nor Bruce felt up to give Steve the time of their day considering that they had been under the direct care of The Intern (they had awarded her Capital-letters) for close to six months now and could attest to the fact of never before having been so productive. Sam had been subjected to The Charts that marked their progress and The Linear Function that showed their surge in productivity following the employment of one Darcy Lewis. He had to concede defeat on that point – he couldn’t argue with facts, or figures and their charts.

By that very same virtue, Thor, too, was out. As the first Avenger ever to have made contact with Darcy – and in such a spectacular way too – he had fallen for her charms rather quickly and had claimed her as his sister without further ado; it had taken a few explanations for Sam to understand the entire set of ramifications that came with such a claim – especially once Thor had returned with ‘the most joyous news’ that his claim had been blessed by his mother Frigga. (Let’s just say it was _official_ in the realms of Asgard.)

And that left Sam.

Itty bitty Sam – who really hadn’t counted on his friend to be such a block-head about the situation – was the one who was going to have to girdle up and get Steve Rogers to realize that Darcy Lewis was a godsend who could roll with the punches better than anyone could.

From his current position he could, without being overly dramatic, easily ascertain that his devotion to the well-being of the Avengers as a group was probably unhealthy and he should have it checked. The Sergeant’s stare was icy.

Swallowing around the block of dread in his throat didn’t properly work, but he’d learned to deal with life-threatening situations during his tours – he knew that he’d have to work this out with a professional later (he’d pencilled in an appointment before he’d come here) but he hoped it would be well worth the few minutes filled by vivid imagery of the man opposite of him killing him in every way conceived by mankind.

Darcy was hanging back, a little nervous and undecided, waiting for The Sergeant instead of taking the lead – waiting for his decision.

Ultimately it was this that resolved Sam. Because Darcy Lewis wasn’t making assumptions despite the fact that out of the Tower’s residents she was probably the only one qualified to do so and allowed the former assassin to work through new situations himself – she didn’t set a time limit either (which, A+ for Darcy May Lewis but his heart was about to give out).

Sam took a deep breath when the man finally nodded, stepping aside to clear his path towards Darcy.

The young woman gave a small smile, hesitant and a little unsure but one swerve of her eyes over his shoulder and her posture _changed_.

For a few breaths this stopped Sam in the execution of his plan – because, to be very honest, he (shamefully) hadn’t assessed The Sergeant’s influence on the young woman before. Vice versa, yes, he’d thoroughly analysed the effects that The Intern had on his most regular patient, but it hadn’t occurred to him that this relationship of theirs was a two-way-street and what he garnered from her he managed to actually _give back_ in a way if the fashion in which her whole body language changed to grounded and vaguely more self-assured in the mere blink of an eye.

He wondered, as he placed himself in front of her, if he hadn’t made a severe blunder.

“How do you want to go about this?” she asked him softly, standing opposite of him but lacking a proper stance.

“I didn’t actually think I’d get this far”, he admitted, a small smile on his lips. “-but let’s just see how it plays out?”

Darcy nodded, sliding her right foot back and giving him a coquettish grin. “Come at me, bra.”

 

**

 

“Oh this’s gun be good.” Clint mumbled from the observatory station just above the training room where Sam had taken up position opposite of Darcy. Natasha didn’t give any indication of her opinion, but angled her body until it faced the front.

Her eyes strayed to the First Aid Kit for the barest second and Clint took the liberty to wonder for whom she was looking – before a smirk spread on her lips and, yeah, that question was answered.

Nobody acknowledged it when The Captain entered the observatory, keeping his eyes steely and straight ahead, locked on the couple that had started their dance of advance-retreat under the watchful eyes of Barnes.

Sam was testing the waters, swinging a little too wide, watching for her reactions and Darcy – much to his pride – did not disappoint, side-stepping with efficacy and lightness but settled in her own core, eyes watching for his moves, body watching for her space.

Clint held his breath when Sam’s posture devolved into something more compact, more combat-ready – judged by Nat’s straightening spine she had noticed, too.

 

**

 

She evaded his first serious punch, ignoring the fact that it would have gone straight for her head as she blocked it and jabbed at him in a similar fashion, unsurprised when he defended and stepped back again, giving each other room, but she knew that if she wanted him to take her seriously, she would have to show initiative.

Darcy charged; opting for a combination that Clint had shown her relatively early on in their training sessions – perfect for deflection and landing hits on the sly.

Her fist connected.

 

**

 

Winter Soldier vibrated in his spot at the side-lines, taking in the beautiful form of His Darcy, the light steps of her feet and the perfect retreats she pulled when a hit landed – she did not give up, did not falter once and her consistence sparked an emotion in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

It came close to _pride_ , but even he could tell that it was… more than just that.

Наталья had been gifted, truly, and had learned faster than most of her contemporaries, but she’d had the advantage of youth and enhancement back when he’d trained her – and her prowess had been (was still) a source of true pride for him. His Darcy could not rely on any such support.

And still she trounced Object Wilson.

He could tell by the patterns of her offensive manoeuvres that she was toying with him, still opening him up; cataloguing his motions and his reactions, looking for ingrained habits that she could exploit.

Winter Soldier felt an unfamiliar heat in the cavity of his chest.  
(It grew on him very quickly.)

 

**

 

Sam didn’t know how it had happened.

One moment they’d been trading blows, rather equally he thought, happily in the firm terrain of Krav Maga and Close Quarter Combat and suddenly he was on his back, didn’t know how he got there either, Darcy Lewis holding his arm in a twist that very quickly made his body tense up in an uncomfortable way.

He tapped out with a grunt.

And was promptly alleviated of the presence of his attacker when The Sergeant _swooped_ (he’d never before used that word to describe a movement executed on the ground) in and planted one on the flushed intern _right there_.

Sam rolled over. He could hear Clint even from the distance.

 

**

 

Natasha shook her head when Barnes pulled Darcy into a heated embrace but didn’t even try to hide her satisfied smile as she reached for the First Aid Kit and strutted out of the observatory room, leaving behind a guffawing Clint and an openly gobsmacked Captain (honestly his chin was wiping the floor).

He’d always had something of a soft spot for people who emerged victorious from fights (especially if the odds were clearly stacked against them it would seem). She’d wondered about that, once she had made the connection between Steve’s “Bucky” and her Red Room instructor “Yasha”. Had pondered if perhaps it had been a matter of alliancing oneself with the person most likely to survive in combat – and therefor prove a worthy brother-in-arms.

Until Steve had confided in her that Bucky had taken him under his wing when he’d found him fighting off a bunch of mobster-offspring trying to get a hit on a girl – and then followed up by recounting the countless back-alley fights that his friend had had to pull him out of (or finish for him, whichever one it was).

When the man in question had returned, had received a room in the Tower, she’d started considering the likelihood of a character trait of “Bucky” sneaking into the Winter Soldier persona. She wondered if perhaps Bucky’s obvious adoration of a small boy from Brooklyn getting into fights for justice – a notion forever preserved by history – had bled into the man that had watched _Natalia_ defend her allies (even then she hadn’t known _friends_ the way she maybe should have) until her knuckles bled and into The Sergeant who was still huddling close to the younger woman, alternating between pressing his lips to her temple and patting her hair, when Natasha entered the Training Room.

(The sight made her inexplicably giddy… or maybe that was Sam’s relieved face when he realized she was carrying the First Aid Kit.)

 

**

 

 

“Ms Lewis.” He sounded contrite, pained even and didn’t dare look her in the eye – not even when he stood directly before her table. “Would you mind pencilling me in sometime this week?”

(She wasn’t surprised when James came for his daily dose of hair-patting earlier than usual.)

 

**


End file.
